April 21, 2018Poem
What a mess…
griefmemorytimelovemortality
What a mess…
Drop me in pretence
Ask a forget-me-not
To remember
Why it grew in such profusion
Daisy chains are not a tow rope
Nothing works
When you want it to
Everything is broken
To some degree
Even as it evolves
It has sown an acceptance of destruction
Into its lining
Show me a pocketful of
Sorrows
They are indiscriminate
Drink me a soupcon
Stir the pot
Blend a digestible formulation
Probability plays a role
What are the chances
Of subscribing to an audience
With an unknown soldier
Who might
Ask the impossible question
What makes a hero
How do you stand and deliver
When the world turns upside down
We are all prisoners
Of conscience
When disguise
Fits like a glove and
Is more a reflection
Of who we are
Than fingerprints.